


15 Days of FatT 2020

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: 15 Days of FatT, Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23183314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: 15 days of canon AUs, universe-swapping the characters in the different FatT seasons.Tags updated as I go!
Relationships: Adaire Ducarte/Adelaide Tristé/Hella Varal, Adaire Ducarte/Hella Varal, Adelaide Tristé/Hella Varal, Agent Heard/Hector Hu, Benjamin/Blue J (Friends at the Table), Fero Feritas/Lem King/Hella Varal, Fero Feritas/Samol, Fourteen Fifteen/Tender Sky, Grand Magnificent/Echo Reverie, Hadrian/Rosana (Friends at the Table), Kent Brighton/Gig Kephart, Samot/Samothes (Friends at the Table), Sokrates Nikon Artemisios/Integrity
Comments: 54
Kudos: 38





	1. Day 1: Transfixed (Bluff City, Samot/Samothes)

“Agent Sun.”

Samothes froze, slowly tilting his head so that he could see Samot’s reflection in the car’s mirrored window. His face was covered, of course, but Samothes would recognise those eyes anywhere.

“Agent Wolf. I did realise you were also visiting the City.”

“I was told that something came up,” said Samot, “Last minute. You know how certain organisations can be.”

“I suppose I do,” said Samothes. He paused, considering Samot’s reflection for a moment before he stepped back from the door, opening it without looking back at Samot. “I trust that your time here will not conflict with my own.”

“It might,” said Samot, “I was told I was to be your driver.”

Years of training kept Samothes from turning his head, his toes flexing in his shoes. He had been told someone would be picking him up once he reached the car, but Samol hadn’t told him the driver would be _Samot._

“I see.” Samothes. “I suppose you had better get in.”

The corners of Samot’s eyes crinkled. “I suppose you’re right.”

Samot walked around to the passenger side, his hand brushing Samothes’ as he opened the car door fully, gesturing Samothes inside. This was the frustrating thing about Samot - there was something about him that always made Samothes feel wrong-footed, as though he was missing some key piece of information. Samot’s eyes gave nothing away, his gaze meeting Samothes’ for a moment and then darting away, scanning the highway, telling Samothes nothing.

Samothes slid into the passenger seat, his eyes not leaving Samot as Samot moved towards the driver’s seat. Samot started the car, adjusting the dials on the dashboard. The engine reved and Samot nodded to himself, pulling the car off the side of the road and driving them towards the swampland.

The silence stretched as they drove, broken only by the occasional crunch of gravel under the car’s tires as they headed into the suburbs.

“Do you know where you’re going?” said Samothes.

Samot’s eyes flicked to him, then back to the road in front of him. “Yes. Do you?”

“It’s _my_ mission.”

“That doesn’t mean much in the Concern,” said Samot.

Samothes gave him a sharp look. “Watch yourself.”

“I’m not saying anything they don’t already know,” said Samot, “And even if-”

He broke off, the car slowing slightly before it returned to its previous speed. Samothes glanced in the rearview mirror. There was another car behind them, the windows tinted too dark to see the occupants, the number plate obscured by a splatter of mud. The rest of the car was spotless.

“Expecting company?” said Samot.

“I was advised that it was a possibility,” said Samothes. “Hold steady.”

“I know,” said Samot, “I’ve been a driver before, I know how it goes.”

The other car followed behind them until the highway widened, speeding up to pull alongside them.

“Do you have anything on you?” said Samot.

“Nothing that would be useful at this range,” said Samothes.

“Glove box,” said Samot.

Samothes clicked open the glove box. Inside was a large map he couldn’t read, an empty flask, and a white revolver with a wolf carved into the handle. Samothes took the revolver and shut the glove box, checking the gun. It was loaded.

“Not exactly standard issue,” said Samothes.

“Neither is this place,” said Samot. “Your turn to hold steady.”

Samot leaned back, giving Samothes a better view of the car. As they passed under the streetlamps Samothes could see flashes of the car’s interior, the hard shell faces and smooth rifle barrels of those inside. He swallowed.

“Steady,” said Samot.

“I know,” said Samothes, “I am.” He clicked the safety off. “This will be loud.”

“I’m very aware of that,” said Samot.

He buzzed the window down, slowly, as Samothes took aim and fired. And then, it felt like, all hell broke loose.

The other car swerved wildly, grinding against their’s for a moment, sending broken glass through their window. Samot sped up, their car pulling away as the occupants of the other car opened fire. Samothes leaned out of the window, taking a few cover shots as Samot pushed the car to go faster.

“There’s a turn, ahead,” said Samot, “Brace yourself, I’m taking it hard, might throw them off.”

Samothes put a hand on the roof and kept firing.

“Ready?” said Samot.

Samothes turned towards him, thrown into the side of the car as Samot skidded around the sharp corner into one of Blough City’s half-finished suburbs. Samot’s focus was on the road, his eyes bright as the car slid around one corner, then another. His scarf had fallen, exposing his face to the golden afternoon light.

There was no training that could have prepared Samothes for this. He found he couldn’t look away, his breath caught in his throat. He could see Samot’s lips moving, but there was an odd buzzing in his ears, blocking out the sound, and focusing his attention on Samot’s lips did nothing to help his focus on what the words might be.

He’d never seen Samot bare-faced before and Samothes was sure he would never forget this moment as long as he lived.

“Samothes!” snapped Samot, “I said, did you get hit?”

Samothes blinked, swallowing around his dry throat before he spoke. “I- No. I didn’t get hit, I’m fine.”

Samot’s eyes flicked to him, annoyance fading into an expression Samothes couldn’t read.

“Good. There’s a safehouse up here, we can wait them out there before we move on, as long as we can get to it without them seeing us.”

“Right,” said Samothes, “Right, yes. The safehouse.”

Samot’s gaze flicked to him again as he took another sharp corner. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Samothes shook himself, sitting straighter in his seat. “Of course. It would be inefficient to lie about any wounds I received.”

“That I do actually believe,” said Samot. “Hold on tight, the road gets rocky before we get there.”

Samothes braced a hand on the roof again. “You seem as though you can hold your own as a driver. I trust you.”

Samot’s cheeks flushed. Samothes wondered if they’d ever done that before, when Samot’s face had been covered.

Samot swallowed. “Okay. Hold on.”

Samothes braced himself, keeping his eyes on Samot as the car descended into darkness.


	2. Day 2: Hands (Leap and Millie, Hieron)

__

Leap likes to build things, he’s found. Maybe it’s something the new world of the Rhizome brings out in him. Things are different than they were before. No oceans for one thing, which makes it harder to be a pirate.

He and Millie were working on taking to the air to do it, and he’d sort of falling into building things that way, slowly carving things that could fly while taking the weight of a pala-din.

“You’re only  _ half _ pala-din though,” said Millie, gesturing with her fork as she ate, “so you’re not  _ that _ heavy.”

“Still heavier than you,” said Leap.

“Well, yeah,” said Millie, “I’m not part rock. But you know what I mean. This isn’t going to  _ stop _ us.”

“Course not,” said Leap, “we’ll be in the sky in no time! I mean, that last model almost made it to the next branch.”

Millie laughed. “Yeah. I’m still glad we weren’t on it though.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” said Leap.

He returned to the workshop after they ate, slowly taking off his many rings before he pulled on his work gloves. When his body had started to shift into stone it had stopped before it reached his hands, something that was both a blessing and an annoyance. You didn’t have to protect stone hands in the same way as flesh ones, but he also wouldn’t have been able to get the fine detail work.

Well. Maybe he could have, with time and patience, but Leap had never really been one for that sort of thing. Crafting a series of slowly-improving flying machines was the closest he’d ever come to that.

Millie watched him work, adding her own finishing touches to the sword hilt she was working on, the leather gleaming under her fingertips.

One day soon, they’d take to the skies as surely as he had the sea, and live a life of adventure again, but for now, these quiet nights weren’t so bad.


	3. Day 3: Ghost (Tender/Fourteen, Bluff City)

“Greysand Paranormal this is Tender Sky, how can we help you with the supernatural today?”

“Listen, I, uh, this is kind of weird,” said a man, speaking fast, “I mean, I don’t even  _ believe _ in ghosts, but I just don’t know what to do with this-this… I mean, they were just there and then they were  _ gone _ -”

Tender waved a hand to get Signet’s attention. Signet nodded to her, leaning over her desk to put a hand on Echo’s shoulder, distracting them from their conversation with Gig by the coffee machine. Tender gestured to the phone, putting it on speaker so that they could all hear. The sharing of information was a key part of the job, after all.

“I understand, we get a lot of calls like this,” said Tender. “Take a deep breath, let’s start with your name.”

The man took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m- my name is Grand Magnificent, and I- so I bought this bar, and I got it cheap because it’s a fixer-upper, right? Which, that’s not a problem for me, but then this… stuff starts happening.”

Tender got out her notebook. “What kind of stuff?”

“Small stuff at first,” said Grand, “Things not being where I left them, sometimes I’d fix something and I’d come back the next day and it’d be cracked again and I’d think, okay, maybe I just forgot where I left that thing, or maybe the crack’s a structural problem. But then, last night-”

He broke off, letting out a deep shuddering breath into the phone. Tender waited, holding up a hand to the others to remain silent until Grand had gathered his thoughts.

“I was there late, later than I normally am, because I wanted to finish doing the cabinets, and then I turned around and there was just another person in the bar with me! Only, they weren’t a  _ person  _ because I could see  _ right _ through them to wall, and I yelled, and they yelled, and then a lightbulb exploded and I wasn’t about to stay around after  _ that _ -”

“When was this?” said Tender.

“Last night,” said Grand, “I mean, I don’t know if I believe in all this stuff but they were right there in front of me and then they just  _ vanished _ . I can do a lot of stuff but I just don’t know what to do with this, I mean, I’m supposed to open in two weeks, I don’t have time to figure out the afterlife!”

“Don’t worry sir, the afterlife is our business,” said Tender, “I’ll gather our team and we’ll head over to the bar to get this sorted out  _ today _ .”

Signet raised her eyebrows as Grand gave the address. Tender shot her a look, but Signet was a professional. Whatever she thought of the bar’s location she’d keep it to herself, at least until they were off the call with the guy.

“You know the place?” asked Tender, after she hung up.

“Yes,” said Signet, “It used to be a grand old hotel, before the casinos moved in. Beautiful place.”

“ _ Before _ the casinos moved in?” said Echo.

“Yes,” said Signet, turning away to make herself a coffee.

The machine, though thoroughly haunted, never gave her any trouble.

“I think I know the place too,” said Gig, “I went there a while ago to help the guy who bought it- Grand, I guess - with some stuff... Echo, you remember him right.”

“With a name like that how could I not,” said Echo.

“Is that going to be a problem?” said Tender.

“Not unless he makes it one,” said Echo.

“Come on, he wasn’t  _ that _ bad,” said Gig, “He liked your jacket!”

“Just because he has good taste about one thing does not make him a good person,” said Echo.

“You can sit this one out if it’s going to be an issue,” said Tender, “we probably don’t  _ all _ need to go.”

Echo sighed, long suffering in a way that was mostly for show. “No, it’s  _ fine _ .”

“Of course it is!” said Gig, “Come on, let’s see if Even has the van ready!”

“Don’t hassle him while he’s working!” Tender called after them, “He’s not officially back on duty yet!”

“We won’t!” said Gig, heading through to the garage.

“Did you want me on this?” said Signet, “I already told Belgard I’d meet her at the library, she’s still investigating that thing Kent reported last week.”

“You can if you want,” said Tender, “I’ll have Gig and Echo with me, they’re pretty solid.”

“Are you sure?” said Signet, “Not that I don’t trust them but we both know that Kent’s ghost is… well.”

“A thinly veiled excuse to call Gig?” said Tender.

“I wasn’t going to put it like that but, yes,” said Signet. “Belgard’s having fun researching but it’s not as though we’ll actually  _ find _ anything.”

“We’ll be fine,” said Tender, patting Signet’s arm, “Go have a library date with your wife.”

Signet smiled, her shoulders relaxing slightly, and Tender smiled back. It was almost impossible to get Signet to take an  _ actual _ day off, so a quiet night of relaxed researching would just have to do.

“Even says the van’s good to go!” yelled Gig from the garage.

“Call me if you need the backup,” said Signet, “I mean it.”

Tender huffed a laugh. “I know you do.”

They waved to Even as they drove off. It was strange to be going on job without him, but Tender wasn’t about to put someone with a leg cast back on active duty. Just because spirits weren’t corporeal didn’t mean that you didn’t need to run away from them.

Besides, she was pretty sure the time off was giving him a chance to actually get to know the cute guy from the diner at the end of the block. Even certainly hadn’t complained about the night off, anyway.

The drive to The Crystal Palace didn’t take long. It didn’t look at all close to being operational, the lower windows still boarded up and the paint flaking from the sign above the doorway. There was a man leaning against the front of the building, smoking and tapping his foot. As soon as he caught sight of them he pushed himself off the wall, grinding the cigarette under his heel before he rushed towards the van.

“ _ Finally _ !”

“That’s Grand Magnificent?” asked Tender.

Echo rolled their eyes. “That’s Grand Magnificent.”

“Mister Magnificent-” began Tender.

“ _ Grand _ Magnificent, please,” said Grand, “it’s a mononym.”

“Right,” said Tender, “well, I’m Tender, we spoke on the phone about the issue you’re having.”

“It’s so stupid,” said Grand, “I don’t even  _ believe _ in ghosts, but.. I saw… I don’t know what I saw. Even if you guys are complete scam artists-”

“Hey!’ said Echo.

“I’d rather you find out what the issue is so I can get back to work,” said Grand.

Tender took a deep breath in through her nose, centering herself. “Don’t worry, we’re highly trained professionals. We’ll have this sorted in no time, right guys?”

Gig grinned at her from where he was lugging on his backpack. “Right!”

“It’s, uh… that’s a lot of gear,” said Grand, “you know this is a hotel, not like, a hiking trip, right?”

“Sure!” said Gig, as good natured as ever despite Grand’s frown in his direction, “but this has all our gear in it, you know, EMF meter, first aid kit, night vision goggles, emergency rations-”

“Emergency rations?” said Grand.

“Just in case,” said Gig.

“In case of  _ what _ ?” said Grand.

“Just in case!” said Gig, ”I’m the safety officer, I have to be prepared.”

“Right,” said Grand. He turned to Echo. “And you are…?”

“The weapons expert,” said Echo.

“ _ Weapons expert _ ?” said Grand.

“Sometimes you need to fight a ghost,” said Echo, “Have  _ you _ ever fought a ghost before?”

“No,” said Grand, “because they’re not real.”

“Then what’s in your bar?” said Echo.

Grand scowled, but said nothing.

“Not to worry!” said Tender, “Since the others have already introduced themselves, I will say that I am a highly qualified psychic  _ and  _ I’m trained in hostage negotiation, so I am particularly skilled at getting ghosts to come out of places they don’t want to come out of.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

Tender shrugged. “Enough to keep us in business. Shall we?”

Grand took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, moving to unlock the front door. The inside of the bar was dark, the small amount illumination that there was coming from the stained glass window towards the back of the front bar area and the single, flickering, fluorescent light from behind the bar.

Tender felt Grand freeze behind her. “What is it?”

Grand wet his lips. “I, uh. I turned the power off this morning.”

They all turned towards the light above the bar. It flickered again.

“Are you sure you turned it off for the whole building?” said Gig.

“Of course I’m sure,” snapped Grand, “I-”

The light flickered again, then went out. The door slammed shut behind them. Tender held her breath for a moment, listening to the silence around them. She could feel… something. She let the breath she was holding out slowly, closing her eyes.

“Spirit, if you can hear me, give me a sign,” said Tender.

Nothing happened. She cracked an eye open, but the room was still mostly dark.

“I don’t think it’s-” Grand started to say.

An old-fashioned tankard flew off the shelf from behind the bar and hit the wall next to Grand. He let out a yell, clutching at Echo’s shoulder. Echo stepped in front of Grand, looking around them.

“Spirit, please, we wish you know harm,” said Tender, “If you can, tell me your name.”

This time, there was only silence. Grand peeked out from behind Echo, his hands on their shoulders.

Tender bit her lip, thinking. “Spirit, if you’re there, please talk to me. I know we were called here by someone else but we want to help you, if we can.” She paused, waiting. “Please, tell me your name?”

There was a pause, and then a pen lifted up from behind the bar, floating towards a nearby table that was scattered with blueprints and old invoices. Tender stepped closer, peering carefully at the words in the dim light.

_ 14 15 _

“Fourteen Fifteen,” said Tender, “Okay. Well. My name is Tender Sky, and this is Echo Reverie and Gig Kephart. They’re here to help too.”

Gig waved to the room, and Tender grinned before she turned back towards the bar.

“Grand told us that he saw you the other day, are you able to manifest for us now?” asked Tender.

The papers rustled, as if blown by the wind. Out of the corner of her eye, Tender could see Grand grab both Echo and Gig, pulling them around him like a shield.

_ Don’t know how. Yesterday was different _ .

“Different,” said Tender, “Different how?”

“What?” said Grand.

“What’s different in here today?” said Tender.

“There’s a bunch of ghost hunters in here,” said Grand.

“The power’s off,” said Echo, “They could’ve been drawing energy off of the electricity.”

“Maybe,” said Tender. “Fourteen?”

_ Don’t think so. It was _

_ He touched something _

_ Wait _

_ My book!! _

_ He dropped it after he saw me!!! _

“They say you found a book?” said Tender.

“A book?” said Grand, frowning, “Uh… I found the old hotel ledger? I think. It was in the wall safe, in the back, I didn’t really get a good look at it.”

“Fourteen, would it help if we got the book out?” asked Tender.

_ I honestly don’t know. Maybe? _

“Worth a shot,” said Tender, “Grand Magnificent, lead the way.”

“I’d rather not,” said Grand.

“Come on,” said Echo, “Me and Gig will protect you from the scary book ghost.”

Grand scowled, walking closely in between Echo and Gig as they made their way towards the old manager’s office. The wall safe hung open, a brown, leather bound book sitting in the otherwise-empty safe.

Gig and Echo exchanged a look, then turned to look at Tender. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

“I’ll get it,” said Tender.

“Well if you insist,” said Grand.

“The ghost likes you the most,” said Gig.

The old banker’s lamp on the table flickered as Tender picked up the book. She carefully undid the frail string holding the cover closed, opening it to the first page.

“It’s not a hotel ledger,” said Tender, “It’s a journal.  _ Fourteen Fifteen’s _ journal.”

She looked up. Grand had gone very pale, looking behind her.

“What’s-”

“They’re behind you,” said Echo quietly.

Tender froze. Very, very slowly, she turned. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a small scholarly-looking person, their thin-rimmed glasses and silvery hair glinting in the lamp’s flickering light.

She smiled. “Hello. Good to see you.”

Fourteen laughed. “Good to be seen.” They smiled, the expression lighting up their face. “Oh! And heard!”

“So you’re connected to the journal,” said Tender.

“I don’t know, honestly,” said Fourteen, “I’m not really sure how all this ghost business works. It’s all been a bit hazy for… well, a while, I suppose. Until that man started breaking in here and messing around.”

“I did not  _ break in _ ,” said Grand, “I bought this building in a totally legitimate auction.”

“You did  _ not _ ,” said Fourteen. “I heard you telling someone you won it in a game of poker!”

“Well. A totally legitimate game of poker is  _ like _ an auction of luck,” said Grand, “y’know. If you think about it.”

The lamp flickered again.

“Uh,” said Gig, “Maybe, now that we know the source of the issue we should remove it?”

“Good idea,” said Tender, “I’ll meet you guys outside in a minute.”

Echo pressed their lips together to smother a laugh, hustling a protesting Grand out of the room.

Fourteen watched them go, their face serious. “Is this the part where you banish me to the afterlife?”

“Sometimes,” said Tender, “I try not to banish anyone to somewhere they don’t want to go.”

“Really?”

“Well, you can’t help being dead,” said Tender, “seems unfair not to give you  _ some _ kind of choice.”

“I see,” said Fourteen, “I assume staying here isn’t on the table?”

“Would you want to?”

Fourteen looked around the office and Tender followed their gaze. She tried to imagine what the room looked like when they were alive, when the paint was fresh and new and the furniture was whole.

“I suppose not, no,” said Fourteen finally. They paused. “Where would you have me go?”

“We can find somewhere,” said Tender, “There are plenty of places in Bluff City that would see it as a bonus to have a  _ real _ ghost in their establishment.”

Fourteen hesitated. “Could I… would it be possible to stay with you?”

“With  _ me _ ?”

“I- I know we’ve just met, but I… I feel a connection to you Miss Sky. And I don’t know that I would want to trade one  _ Grand Magnificent _ for another.”

Tender huffed a laugh. “I can understand that. I could always take you around to some places, see how you feel about them, if you like.”

“That would be… I’d like that, I think,” said Fourteen, “Even if I don’t choose one, spending the time with you sounds… nice.”

Tender smiled. Fourteen smiled back, tucking an errant strand of hair behind their ear.

“Well. Shall we?” said Fourteen.

“No time like right now,” said Tender, “Welcome back to the world Fourteen Fifteen.”

“Good to be here Miss Sky.”

“Please,” said Tender, putting her palm on the front cover of their journal. “Call me Tender.”


	4. Day 4: Consequences (Fero/Samol, C/w au)

Fero’s life is different, now that he shares a body with someone.

It feels obvious to say, but it’s more than just the surface level things that Fero had thought of, when Samol had curled down from the tree Fero crashed-landed into and made him an offer. It had seemed like such a simple thing, at the time.

It wasn’t like the other candidates, with their huge Divines towering above them. Samol was just a voice in the back of their minds. Samol rippled along Fero’s skin, like the bark of an old tree, like a river, like an earthquake. Sometimes when Fero caught his reflection now it startled him to see it, the curling tendrils of Samol twisting around his body, twisting and flexing in reaction to the world around them.

Fero could feel Samol inside him too, Samol’s voice in the back of his mind, or as odd emotion that wasn’t his own in his chest. That made the tendrils of Samol shift too, protecting him, keeping him safe as he kept Samol safe in return.

That was the biggest change of all, for both of them. They’d both been alone in the galaxy for a long time before they found their way to each other.

“Sometimes things are fate,” said Samol.

“Nah,” said Fero, waving a hand, “It’s all choices.”

“And would you choose it again?” said Samol.

The question lingered in Fero’s mind like smoke. He was quiet for a long moment, shifting the controls of the ship to keep them on course.

“Yeah,” said Fero, “Yeah, I think I would.”


	5. Day 5: Rings (adelaide/hella/adaire, C/w au)

They say it’s dangerous to wear your heart on your sleeve. Adaire’s always believed that, is always careful to hide things away so deeply that even she can barely reach them, so that they’ll stay safe, so that  _ she’ll  _ stay safe. You can’t hack information if you don’t store that information anywhere outside your own mind. It’s a method that serves her well through the years, hiding with her as a stowaway and following her through the galaxy.

And then Hella Varal blusters her way into a gunfight and changes all of that.

It’s beyond ridiculous, really. Hella smiles at her and suddenly all the things Adaire has never even  _ thought _ of saying to  _ anyone  _ crowd the back of her throat, bursting to be spoken aloud. Adaire swallows then down, and focuses her attention on patching Hella up.

“Try not to get hit like that again,” is what Adaire says instead. She’s careful to keep her tone as flat as possible..

Hella grins. “But if I did  _ that _ , I wouldn’t get to see you again, now would I?”

Adaire considers her for a moment, weighing hiding in safety against small comforts.

“You could always just ask me out,” says Adaire.

She’s rewarded by Hella’s deep blush.

Adaire raises her eyebrow. “Well?”

“I, uh.” Hella presses her lips together. “I kind of need to ask my wife first?”

“Your wife,” says Adaire, turning away under the pretense of washing her hands in the motel room’s tiny sink, “Of course.”

“She’ll probably want to come,” says Hella.

Adaire snorts. Right. Not only is Hella’s wife is going to let her go out with an outlaw doctor, she’s going to want to come along as well.

“Sure,” says Adaire, “why not, bring her along.”

Shockingly, Hella does. Even more shockingly, her wife is Adelaide Tristero.

“Aren’t you dead?” is the first thing Adaire says to her.

“I was,” says Adelaide, “but nothing is truly permanent, if you have enough credits.”

Adaire snorts.

Hella shifts on her feet, her hands twitching at her sides before she shoves them in her pockets. Adelaide drapes herself - there’s not really another word for it - over Hella’s side, smiling at Adaire. Her ring, a single, pearl-studded band, glints under the neon lights. It matches the tattoo around Hella’s finger.

“I do hope you like the restaurant,” says Adelaide, “I know seafood isn’t for everyone, especially here.”

Adaire never finds out if she likes the restaurant, because on the way there Hella’s earlier trouble finds them again. Adaire finds herself playing doctor to both of them, albeit for much less serious wounds than before. She has to admit, if only to herself, that Adelaide is a far better shot that she would have given her credit for.

“We’ll have to keep you around Ms DuCarte,” says Adelaide, her voice steady even as Adaire applies antiseptic spray to the small laser burn on her arm.

“I’ll send you a list of my rates,” says Adaire, “I don’t do discounts.”

“That won’t be an issue,” says Adelaide.

Adaire’s eyes linger on Adelaide’s fur-lined coat, thrown haphazardly over a chair in the corner. “I don’t doubt it.”

Adelaide talks her into coming home with them, and Adaire agrees against her better judgement. It’s something in her eyes, thinks Adaire. She very carefully does not think about Hella’s eyes, fixed on her as she slides into the cab beside the two of them, her hand hovering over Adaire’s arm for a fraction of a second too long to be accidental before Hella had sat back in her seat.

When they get out of the cab Adelaide smoothly slides her arm around Adaire’s, guiding her into the towering glass apartment where she apparently lives. Hella follows close behind. Adaire can feel Hella’s eyes, burning into her back as they walk.

The security is impressive for a residential building. Adaire tries to take note of things, in case she ever needs to get into a building like this without a key, but it’s difficult with Hella standing so close behind her.

The inside of Adelaide’s penthouse apartment is as shining as the outside of it. Every single item in it looks as though it cost more than the entire apartment Adaire lives in. She follows Adelaide as she leads her through the apartment.

“I’ll get someone in immediately to refit this study for you, of course,” says Adelaide, “I’m sure you can direct them as to what you’ll need.”

“Need for what?” says Adaire.

Adelaide waves a hand. “Whatever you need to outfit the room as you think best, you’re the medical doctor after all.”

Adaire almost stumbles, catching herself before she can outwardly show her surprise. “Right. You know, I do already  _ have _ an office, but I guess you don’t really get to the other side of town much.”

“And now, neither will you,” says Adelaide smoothly, “Hella can accompany you tomorrow to collect your things.”

Hella nods, watching Adaire carefully. Adaire curls her toes inside her shoes, considering her response. Adelaide’s wrist comm beeps, a delicate chime that matches their surroundings. She glances down.

“Ah, my dear brother,” says Adelaide, “You must excuse me. Hella?”

“I got it,” says Hella.

Adelaide steps away, shutting the door to a nearby room behind her. Without her, the hallway seems very quiet. Adaire can hear the faint hum of the high-priced electronics drifting faintly from the other room.

“You don’t actually have to stay here,” says Hella, “It’s… she just kind of prefers it that way, with people she likes.”

“She’s only just met me,” says Adaire.

Hella shrugs. “I knew I liked you when I met you. It’s easy to know, with you.”

“Is that so?” says Adaire, trying to keep her annoyance out of her tone.

“Not like-” Hella makes a face. “I meant it in a nice way.”

“Of course you did,” says Adaire.

“I did!” says Hella, “You- I mean, it’s not every day a cute doctor saves my life, you kind of made a positive impression on me.”

Hella, Adaire realises with a jolt, is blushing. Very faintly, just a light dusting of pink across her cheeks, but it’s there. Something in Adaire’s chest clenches at the sight of it. She wets her lips.

“I mean, maybe I could stay here, for a bit,” says Adaire, “It’s nicer up here than in my shithole apartment, and your wife already said she’d pay in advance.”

Hella grins at her. “Great!”

It will take few years, but one day Adaire will have a ring of her own, a tattooed band across her finger to match Hella’s. For now, she smiles back at Hella, and follows her to the kitchen.


	6. Day 6: Cut Loose (Clem and Millie, Bluff Citty au)

Millie pushed through the crowd at the bar, weaving quickly in between people. She smirked to herself as she heard someone behind her recognise Sovereign Immunity, their need to speak to one of Bluff City’s most famous ex-casino security heads stronger than his need to keep an eye on her. She plucked a drink from a nearby waiter’s tray on her way into the courtyard, being sure to walk behind a group clustered around the door to hide her exit.

The party had spilled into the courtyard, so Millie didn’t attract much notice as she walked casually further from the doors, the sound of the party fading behind her. She wasn’t  _ running away _ exactly, but just because she’d been blackmailed into working certain jobs or certain families didn’t mean she had to actually take part in the social events that surrounded them.

She rounded the corner, feeling more relaxed the further the party faded into a muted sound behind her, slowing her steps a little to enjoy her surroundings. The courtyard turned into a lush garden, flowers all closed up for the night, their colourful petals barely visible amongst the dark, glossy leaves.

The door to a greenhouse caught her eye, and Millie glanced behind her. There was no one around and besides, no had told her that she  _ couldn’t _ go in and no one had told Sovereign Immunity that he  _ could _ . It was the perfect place to hide out for the rest of the party, until they let her leave.

“Vermillion? Are you out here?” said Sovereign Immunity’s voice from around the corner.

Well that settled it. Millie stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind her. She held her breath, waiting until she was sure she heard him walk past before she moved.

The greenhouse looked even taller from the inside, the glass ceiling stretching far above her to accommodate the trees. Vines curled around the tree trunks and the smaller plants, creating a wall of green that blocked out the view of the outside world. She could hear the sound of water running, the only noise in the greenhouse other than her breathing.

Millie grinned.  _ Perfect _ .

She wandered the path towards the sound of the water, occasionally bending to look at the name of a plant here of there but mostly enjoying the fact that for once there was no Sovereign Immunity over her shoulder, no danger to face down, and, most importantly, no-

Millie stopped in her tracks. In front of her was Clem, her spotless white gown a little crumpled from where she was sitting on a bench by the fountain, a deck of Kesh-branded playing cards held loosely in her hands.

“Ugh,” said Millie, “What are  _ you _ doing here?”

Clem’s head shot up. “I’m- nothing, I- I’m allowed to be here- wait, what are  _ you _ doing here?”

“I asked first,” said Millie.

“I’m your superior,” said Clem, “You have to answer me.”

“When has that ever been true?” said Millie, “Besides, no one ever said that this wasn’t part of the party.”

“I think it’s fairly obvious it isn’t,” said Clem.

Millie shrugged. “Then go back.”

“Maybe I will,” huffed Clem, “I-”

There was the unmistakable creaking sound of the greenhouse door being opened. Clem and Millie both froze.

“Hello?” called a voice, the echo making it difficult to make out.

“Oh hell,” whispered Clem, “I- uh-”

MIllie looked around them. There wasn’t anywhere to go, after all the only thing around were the plants. She looked up. The branches of the tree close to them would offer some kind of grip, at least. She turned, jumping to get a hand hold on the first branch and pulling herself up.

Clem stood, following behind her. She reached a hand up to MIllie. Millie looked from Clem’s hand to her face, then back to her hand.

Clem huffed a breath. “Come on, you can’t just-”

There was the crunching of footsteps, coming closer. A look of panic flickered over Clem’s face.

“If you don’t help me the first thing I’ll do is say that you’re here,” hissed Clem.

Millie rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

She pulled Clem up into the tree behind her, helping her to climb higher. She hoped that the leaves between them and the ground would disguise Clem’s white dress, bright in the darkness. Millie shifted, keeping her body close to the tree’s trunk, and Clem copied her movement, one hand still clutching the playing cards.

The footsteps got closer and closer, until they were right underneath the tree. MIllie peered through the branches. She couldn’t really make them out until they got their phone out, the light of the screen illuminating their features - it was Gucci. Millie glanced at Clem. Clem’s attention was focussed down, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“Clem?” said Gucci.

Clem squeezed her eyes shut. Millie kept her’s open, watching as Gucci slowly walked the length of the fountain, peering into the thicket of trees around her carefully before she began to walk away from them.

Clem let out a quiet breath as Gucci’s footsteps faded. Millie looked over at her. This close, Millie could see that Clem’s gown wasn’t spotless after all, where the water from the fountain had flicked murky water onto her dress.

“So,” said Millie quietly, “What’d you do to Gucci?”

“Nothing,” said Clem quickly, “I just don’t feel like seeing her right now.”

Millie craned her neck, looking down at the ground. “Pretty far way to go just to not see someone.”

“You had the idea,” said Clem.

“You didn’t have to follow me,” said Millie, “You-”

“Vermillion?” called Sovereign Immunity’s voice below them.

Millie’s jaw snapped shut and she quickly looked below them. Sovereign Immunity walked underneath there, looking from side to side. He was walking faster than Gucci had, although he was no less oblivious to Clem and Millie’s presence above him. Clem shot MIllie a look, although she kept silent until he had passed out of sight.

“I suppose that explains why you were so quick to climb,” said Clem.

Millie glared at her. “I just don’t want to deal with his bullshit, okay? I’m not interested in being nice to people from The Shore right now. What’s your excuse?”

Clem paused. “Gucci is… she wants to speak to me about something, and I cannot seem to convince her otherwise.”

“So why not just tell her not to come tonight?” said MIllie.

“Too scandalous,” said Clem, “Besides, the purpose of a gala is to invite everyone that you possibly can.”

“And then hide from them in a tree.”

“The tree was your idea,” said Clem, “I was hiding in a greenhouse.”

“You would’ve have got caught without my idea,” said Millie.

“Perhaps,” said Clem. She looked down. “I think they’re gone.”

“Good,” said Millie.

She started to climb down, stopping as Clem made a distressed sound above her. She looked up, rolling her eyes at Clem even as she held out a hand to help her.

“Come on,” said Millie, “We should find somewhere else to go before they come back.”

Clem was quiet as they made their way out of the tree, her gown looking a little worse for wear by the time she made it to the ground. She brushed her hands across the front of her dress before she looked back up at Millie.

“So,” said Clem.

“So,” said Millie, “What?”

“Where are we going to next?”

“Why are I deciding that?”

“It was your idea to go somewhere,” said Clem, “I assumed you have somewhere in mind.”

“For  _ me _ ,” said Millie, “find your own hiding spot.”

She turned, walking in the direction of the door. After a moment, Clem followed.

“I said find your own spot,” said Millie.

“I am,” said Clem.

“And it just happens to be this way too, is that it?”

“You don’t know where I’m going,” snapped Clem.

“And where  _ are _ you going?”

“The boardwalk,” said Clem.

Millie made a face, her steps slowing enough for Clem to catch up to her. “That’s where  _ I  _ was going to go.”

“Ha!” said Clem, “ _ Now _ who’s following who!”

“Still you,” said Millie.

Clem spluttered, and Millie grinned.

She opened the door to the greenhouse carefully. The path outside was as empty as it had been before. Clem caught her wrist as she turned to go.

“This way,” said Clem, “They never put as many people on the side entrance, and they always put the trainees on at this hour.”

“Aren’t you like, in charge of who comes and goes?” said Millie, “Couldn’t you just tell whoever that we’re going for a walk?”

“And have them sell the story to the papers?” said Clem, “Absolutely not. Come on.”

Millie huffed a breath, following half out of curiosity to see how Clementine Kesh would break out of her own party.

Clem hadn’t been wrong about the security - it was laughably easy to slip behind them as they milled around, quickly running to Clem’s vesper.

Clem held out a pastel pink helmet. Millie raised her eyebrows. Clem huffed, pushing it into Millie’s hands, waiting until she’d put it on and climbed on behind her before she took off towards the boardwalk.

The mansions and clean streets blurred into the grimy downtown streets. Millie could feel herself relax, the further they got from the Kesh estate.

Clem slowed as they reached the boardwalk, parking them close to the pier. She walked towards the ocean without looking back, bending to take off her shoes as she reached the sand.

“What are you doing?” called Millie.

Clem paused for a moment, glancing over her shoulder. “I’m going for a swim.”

“A  _ swim _ ?”

Clem didn’t respond, walking steadily towards the water. Millie followed after, pausing the take off her own boots as the heels stuck in the sand. Clem was up to her knees by the time Millie reached the water’s edge, the gown swirling on top of the water and making her look as though she were floating.

“It’s freezing,” said Millie, “You can’t seriously want to swim in this.”

Clem sighed. “Perhaps not.” She paused. “It is nice to be out here. I don’t often visit the beach, so no one ever thinks to look for me here.”

She looked up and Millie followed her gaze. The moon hung high above them, the tiny sliver casting a dim light over the ocean, catching on the far-off waves. Millie stepped forward until she was level with Clem, gathering her own gown over her arm to keep it out of the water. The water was cold, especially after the humid heat of the greenhouse, but it wasn’t as unpleasant as she’d thought it would be. She could feel Clem glance towards her before she looked back out to the ocean.

Clem let out a long breath. “I suppose we should head back.”

“In a minute,” said Millie, “I’m still getting used to the water.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Clem’s lips quirk upwards, the first genuine smile she had ever seen on Clem’s face.

“All right,” said Clem, “A few more minutes.”


	7. Day 7: Children (Ben/Blue J, TM au)

Ben’s shifting in his seat beside Blue J as they wait for the call to connect to the Velas, his foot tapping on the ground as he jiggles his leg. It always takes a little while, when the ship’s this far away from them. Blue J leans closer, reaching out to cover his hand with their’s. Ben looks at them, giving them a tight smile.

“It’s going to be fine,” says Blue J, “I mean, my dad took it okay.”

“I know,” says Ben, continuing to look worried.

Blue J lets go of his hand to put an arm around Ben’s shoulders, tucking him into their side. Ben’s not  _ shaking _ , exactly, but Blue J can feel his nervous energy.

“I just-” starts Ben, cutting himself off as the call goes through.

Hadrian and Rosana’s faces come into view, the screen slowly becoming less pixelated. Blue J waves and Hadrian and Rosana wave back, prompting a huff of laughter from Ben. Blue J grins, nudging his shoulder.

“Hello you two,” says Rosana.

“Hi,” says Ben.

They chat for a little while, catching up, but Blue J can feel Ben’s nervous energy ramping up again. He’s started tapping his foot. Blue J sees Rosana’s eyes go to her son, and they know she’s noticed it too.

“So what’s new with you?” says Rosana, “Any big plans?”

Ben stills. Blue J glances towards him, just in case he wants them to take over, and Ben gives a tiny shake of his head. Blue J squeezes his hand. Ben takes a deep breath.

“Kind of, yeah,” says Ben, “We were thinking… we found someone selling a ship and we… we bought it.” He takes another quick breath, continuing on before his parents can say anything. “I got it checked over and everything, and we already have the supplies.”

“Where are you planning on going?” says Rosana.

“Everywhere,” says Ben.

Blue J smiles at him. That’s the answer Ben had given them when they’d asked him where he most wanted to go.

“I thought you wanted to explore Quire?” says Hadrian.

“I do,” says Ben, “and we have been, but… there’s so much more out there dad.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” says Hadrian.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” says Ben, “Blue J and I can handle anything, right?”

Blue J squeezes his hand. “Right.”

Hadrian is stony-faced. “There’s a lot of things out there-”

“And I want to find out for myself,” says Ben, “the good  _ and _ the bad.”

“Hopefully mostly the good though,” says Blue J.

Something in Hadrian relaxes at that, and he runs a hand over his short hair. “Well you don’t need our approval.”

“I don’t,” says Ben, “But… I’d like it.”

“You have it,” says Hadrian, “No matter what, you know we’ll always be so proud of you. And you too, Blue J.”

Ben swallows hard. “Thanks dad.”

Hadrian takes a deep breath in, letting it out slowly, the motion so much an echo of Ben’s earlier that it makes Blue J smile.

“Of course,” says Hadrian, “We  _ are _ going to need to see that ship of yours-”

“ _ Dad _ ,” says Ben.

“You mother,” says Hadrian, “is one of the Fleet’s best navigation experts-”

Rosana laughs, leaning into Hadrian’s shoulder.

“The first rule of exploring the galaxy is-”

“Using your resources, I know dad,” says Ben.

Blue J laughs. “I’ll send you the specs. You’ll love it, it’s a fantastic little ship- Although, I guess everyone thinks that about  _ their _ ship.”

Rosana grins. “They do, and they’re all right.”

Blue J squeezes Ben’s hand again, and he grins at them before he stands to carry the communicator outside. They wait a moment, and they can hear Hadrian and Rosana exclaim in pride and delight at the ship.

“It’s a real beauty,” they hear Hadrian say, “I hope I get to see it in person someday soon.”

Ben laughs, all traces of nerves gone. “Of course you will dad. You’re our first stop.”


	8. Day 8: Masks (Lem/Fero/Hella, Bluff City au)

“Hey, you!” said a voice behind Lem, “Stop right there!”

Lem, of course, did not stop. He clutched the violin to his chest, his feet thudding heavily on the old worn planks of the boardwalk. He could hear Morbash behind him in the dark, gaining on him. Lem knew he had about a minute to get properly away, a minute to turn enough corners to lose Morbash before capture became inevitable. That’s what Morbash’s BCPD statistics always sai, anyway, and Lem had seen enough of his work to believe it.

He caught a flash of something overhead, someone jumping between the buildings, his momentary distraction causing him to trip over the uneven wood footpath, sending him sprawling and the violin skidding away into a patch of sand.

“You okay?” said a woman behind him.

Lem looked up. There was a woman standing above him, her shining red hair held back by a black and gold cloth that matched her mask and tight-fitting sleeveless top. She held out a hand to him, the gold of the gloves flashing under the streetlights. Lem took her hand, the motion of being pulled to his feet giving him a moment to find his voice again. The grainy photos in the papers had not done her justice.

“Thanks,” said Lem. “Uh. Wow. I’ve never… is it really you?”

The woman, noted vigilante Queenkiller, laughed. It was a brighter, more cheerful sound than Lem would have thought from the news coverage of her in the Bluff City Current.

“I hope so,” said Queenkiller. “Don’t know who else I’d be.”

She grinned down at Lem and Lem felt himself smile back before he remembered his current circumstances.

“Oh, my- I dropped something over-” Lem looked towards the area he’d dropped his violin, but his violin was no longer there. To make matters worse, he could hear the thudding of Morbash’s boots drawing closer.

Queenkiller put her hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be alright, we’ll find whatever it is.”

“No, you don’t understand,” said Lem, “I- I have to get out of here, he’s after me, I-”

Her face went serious. “Who’s after you?”

“Morbash, he- it’s a big misunderstanding, sort of, I just-”

“Whoa, okay,” said Queenkiller, “Let’s get you somewhere safer,  _ then _ we can work out what you did to Morbash.”

“I didn’t  _ do _ anything-”

“Morbash is extreme but he’s not unreasonable,” said Queenkiller, “You probably did  _ something _ , it just wasn’t as bad as he thinks it is. Come on, quick-”

She pulled him towards an alleyway. Lem had to half-jog to keep up with her stride as they turned one corner, then another, the sound of the boardwalk fading behind them.

“This is a dead end,” said Lem, attempting to keep his voice at a normal pitch.

“Nah,” said Queenkiller, “Only if you don’t know how to whistle.”

Before Lem had a chance to ask what  _ that  _ meant, she whistled a series of notes. It reminded Lem of a sing-song nursery rhyme, or the theme song to a show he couldn’t remember. Something homey and comforting, something safe.

Another masked face popped over the top of the wall, the wild brown hair almost as distinctive as the feathered mask. The wings were also something of a giveaway.

“ _ Sparrow _ ?” said Lem.

The man grinned. “The one and only.” Sparrow nodded to Lem. “He coming with us?”

“My  _ name _ is Lem.”

“He’s in some kind of trouble with Morbash,” said Queenkiller.

Sparrow wrinkled his nose. “And that’s our problem because…?”

“Come on,” said Queenkiller, “You know how Morbash gets. If this guy really did something terrible we can turn him over to Hadrian and he’ll sort it out.”

“I didn’t do anything!” said Lem, “I was just  _ borrowing _ it!”

Queenkiller narrowed her eyes at him. “Borrowing  _ what _ ?”

“This,” said Sparrow, holding up the violin.

Lem gasped. “My violin!”

“I’m beginning to think your  _ real _ power is luck,” said Queenkiller, “or sleight of hand.”

Sparrow laughed. “I was just flying past, it almost hit me when this guy fell over.”

Queenkiller glanced behind them. “Speaking of, let’s get a move on. If Morbash catches us aiding a fugitive that’s bad press.”

Sparrow sighed, throwing down a rope.

Queenkiller turned to Lem, looking him up and down. “D’you mind if I give you a lift? It’ll probably be faster.”

“I guess?” said Lem.

Queenkiller turned, gesturing for him to climb onto her back. “Come on.”

Lem felt his face flush, trying to hold on in a way that avoided touching her as much as possible. He could feel the muscles in her back shifting and flexing as she climbed, easily carrying them both over the wall. He felt as though he held his breath the whole way, listening instead to his heart pounding in his ears.

She let him down easily once they were on the other side. Lem swallowed hard.

“Um. Thank you. Again.”

Queenkiller laughed. “All part of the service.”

“Here,” said Sparrow, holding out the violin. As Lem went to grab it, Sparrow pulled it back. “But  _ first _ tell me what’s so special about it.”

“It’s just a violin!” said Lem, “It’s not  _ special _ . Well. Except for the provenance, perhaps, but that’s not verified. Anyone can make up unverified provenance.”

“What about the provenance?” said Queenkiller.

“It came in with a big batch of things, old postcards, a baseball, a book of herbs, and their provenance was just a complete mess, nothing catalogued and the whole thing had its origin point as a  _ dreadful _ misspelling of Bluff City, and so I told my boss, and he got  _ very _ weird about it and said we’d have to just  _ give _ them away to some society I’d never heard of,” said Lem, “and I was sorting them out, you know, cataloguing things, and I got to this violin and I thought… well, there’s no catalogue, and it’s just going to some society where it can sit in someone’s private museum, so no one would notice if I just… forgot to add it to our outgoing items.”

As Lem was speaking, Sparrow had been fiddling with the case. He opened it, peering inside.

“Hel- Queenkiller,” said Sparrow.

She peered over Sparrow’s shoulder, her eyes going wide.

“What?” said Lem, “It’s just a normal violin!”

Queenkiller pressed her lips together, taking the violin case from Sparrow’s hands and turning it around for Lem to see. She pointed to the faded velvet lining of the case.

“Do you recognise this?”

Lem looked carefully at the velvet. It was funny - he hadn’t noticed anything strange about it before, but now the blue fabric seemed to ripple like water, making the gold-embossed crab on the inside of the case scuttle from side to side, it’s eyes flashing. Lem felt the back of his neck prickle into a cold sweat, flinching as Sparrow put a hand on his arm.

“Hey, you okay?” said Sparrow.

Lem scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yes, sorry I- I must have hit my head harder than I thought earlier.” He huffed a laugh, deciding to ignore how Queenkiller and Sparrow exchanged a worried look. “That symbol, is it important?”

“It might be,” said Queenkiller. “Does that mean you  _ have _ seen it before?”

“It was on some of the other things that came with it,” said Lem, “I thought it was just some kind of weird merchandising thing, we get a lot of-Hey!”

Queenkiller grabbed him by the arm. “We need to get you somewhere safe  _ right now _ . Sparrow?”

“On it,” said Sparrow.

Lem was distracted from his annoyance by the almost-lazy flap of Sparrow’s wing, propelling him across the alleyway to the street. It was one thing to see blurred phone camera footage and glimpses on the news and another thing entirely to see him in motion in person, even in so mundane a movement.

Sparrow peered around the street for a moment, making a gesture towards Queenkiller. She pulled Lem forward, reminding him to be annoyed again.

“Wait!” said Lem, “Where are you  _ taking _ me? What is  _ going on _ ?”

“We don’t have time to-”

Lem shook himself out of her grip, folding his arms. “Make time.”

“Okay,” said Sparrow, appearing at Lem’s side and making him jump, “the short version is that the crab symbol means that this-” Sparrow held up the violin “-is from a parallel universe, and that one of three groups are probably coming after you right now to get it.” He tilted his head to the side. “Four groups, I guess, if you count Morbash.”

“He’s determined enough to be a small group,” said Queenkiller. “Listen, the point is, you’re in more danger than you know. We need to get you somewhere safe, somewhere they can’t get to you.”

“I- this is ridiculous,” said Lem, “I admit that I am in trouble, but if this is some kind of- I mean, parallel universes-”

It was at this point, that a crab-faced figure dropped down from the fire escape above, annoyingly disproving the thing Lem was about to say. Thankfully the ensuing fight and escape seemed to distract Queenkiller and Sparrow enough that they didn’t mention it, although Sparrow did shoot him a smug look as he flew Lem across the city.

Lem huffed a breath, holding onto the violin tightly and trying not to look at the ground. It meant he spent the majority of the journey staring at Sparrow’s profile, absently noting the way Sparrow’s hair curled around his ear and the small constellation of freckles that peeked out from underneath his mask. As distraction techniques went, it was incredibly effective - Lem hardly noticed they were descending until his feet touched the ground.

Sparrow blinked up at him for a moment before clearing his throat. “Queenkiller will be here soon, we should, uh -”

He gestured to the building in front of them, the old power plant, partially crumbing into disrepair.

“ _ This _ is your secret hideout?” said Lem.

“Yes,” said Sparrow, “Come on.”

Sparrow held up part of the fence for him to duck under, leading him towards what looked as though it had once been a control room. He turned before he reached the door, opening a large fuse box against the wall and flicking a switch up, down, then up again. Lem jumped back as the fuse panel slid back, revealing a long metal ladder, descending into the dark.

“Down  _ there _ ?” said Lem.

Sparrow rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

Lem clutched the violin case, his heart pounding as he descended the ladder. Unlike the flight there, this journey seemed to take forever before Lem could see light below him. He scrubbed a hand over his face after he reached the ground, holding onto the ladder with one hand for support.

“Hey,” said Sparrow, “You okay?”

He put a hand on Lem’s arm, gentle, as though he thought Lem were made of glass. Perhaps he thought regular humans were, Lem had seen the footage of him fighting a lightning creature last year where he’d gotten hit and had barely gotten a scratch and, oh god, Lem wasn’t built for a life like  _ that- _

“Why don’t we sit down, okay?” said Sparrow, guiding Lem across the room.

Lem let himself be guided, his head buzzing. He hugged the violin case tightly to his chest as Sparrow helped him to sit down.

“Just breathe with me, okay Lem?” said Sparrow, “In… and out… that’s it, come on, in… and out…”

Sparrow sat close to him, his hands on Lem’s knees as he guided Lem through breathing. Lem noticed again the scattering of freckles below Sparrow’s mask, golden in the room’s low light.

Lem swallowed, forcing himself to look away and taking in the room for the first time. It was a bunker-like space, homey touches thrown over cold stone surfaces. A bank of computer screens and a pinboard took up one of the walls, the only hint that this space was something other than a civilian space. Lem could just make out the crab symbol in the middle of the board, strings connecting it to the other papers and photos.

“What happens now?” said Lem.

“We wait for Queenkiller to get here,” said Sparrow, “Takes a little longer to walk here, even for someone like her.”

“No, I mean… what happens after this?” said Lem, “I can’t stay down here forever.”

“We’ll figure it out,” said Sparrow. “We’re good at this.”

“I mean,” continued Lem, “you saved me from Morbash - although, honestly, I would have  _ one hundred percent _ rather have dealt with Morbash than whatever that crab person was, but-”

“Hey,” said Sparrow, leaning forward again to catch Lem’s hands in his. “It’ll be okay. Trust me.”

“I just… I know you’re… you help people, I know that,” said Lem, “but I… this is the first time I’ve ever been involved in any of this. I don’t know if trusting people is something I should be doing. Maybe I should just go, and give back the violin, and then all of this will be over.”

“It won’t be,” said Sparrow, “Trust me, okay, it won’t-”

“I just don’t know why I  _ should _ ,” said Lem, “no offence, you seem… but if this is as dangerous as you say, maybe I should-”

He moved to stand but Sparrow caught his wrist, keeping him in his seat. Sparrow pressed his lips together for a moment, considering Lem, before he lifted his hand up, pulling his mask off. It was such a small area of his face, considering, but being able to see his face took Lem’s breath away.

“My name is Fero. I’m asking you to  _ trust _ me.”

Lem swallowed hard. “I… I feel like you’re not supposed to do that.”

Fero laughed. Without the mask, Lem could see how it lit up his whole face. “Oh, absolutely not, definitely against the rules.”

“So why do it?”

“Because I want you to trust me,” said Fero, “Because I  _ need _ you to trust me.”

Lem took a deep breath in. “Okay. Okay, I trust you.”

Fero smiled. “Cool. I-”

“ _ What _ are you doing?” said Queenkiller.

“Hey,” said Fero, “I-”

“I leave you alone with this guy for five minutes and you take your mask off?”

“It was important!” said Fero, “Besides, I have  _ wings _ , it’s not like I actually  _ have _ a proper secret identity.”

Queenkiller huffed. “Well you’d better not have told him who  _ I _ am.”

“Never,” said Fero, his voice serious.

Queenkiller’s shoulders relaxed, stepping forward to ruffle Fero’s hair and the tops of his wings. Fero laughed.

“So,” said Queenkiller, “Fero’s run you through the basics?”

“That you’re going to protect me?” said Lem.

Queenkiller huffed a laugh. “Yeah. We’re going to protect you.”


	9. Day 9: Devotion (Clem and SI, Marielda au)

The hallway towards the throne chamber echoed as Sovereign Immunity walked towards the doors. He paused for a moment, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts under the pretext of studying the ornate design, the twisting pattern of gold on white depicting a dance, or perhaps a battle. He’d never been able to decide which it was.

“I can hear you out there,” said Clem.

Sovereign Immunity took a breath in, pushing to doors open. Clem stood, looking out of the tall window beside the throne, the reflection of the lava on her gown turning the white fabric a flickering orange-red.

It was strange - for someone who had done so much to get it, she rarely seemed to spend much time on the throne itself.

“You have the reply from my mother?” said Clem, her voice flat.

Sovereign Immunity nodded, holding out the roll of parchment. Clem took it, turning to look back out the window. She tapped the parchment against her thigh.

“What was her response?”

Sovereign Immunity considered her for a moment before he replied. “It was what you expected. She doesn’t like the idea of surrender any more than you do.”

Clem’s shoulders sagged for a moment before she returned to her previous ramrod-straight posture. “Foolish. She always speaks as if  _ I _ am the rash one, when it is  _ she _ who tears this land apart.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. “At least I was able to get  _ you  _ to see reason.”

Clem had, at the time, certainly seemed the more reasonable of the two, a lost child trying to protect her beloved city from her mother’s wrath. After a few years in service to Clem, Sovereign Immunity could more easily see the resemblance between her and her mother, something he was sure that both of them would have found to be equally offensive.

He watched as Clem slowly unrolled the parchment, a muscle in her jaw twitching as she read whatever short, cutting missive Crysanth had written this time. Something flickered in her expression and she looked away quickly, crumpling the parchment in her hand. Sovereign Immunity could see her swallow hard, her hands shaking.

It was moments like that he remembered how truly young she was. He didn’t know if Crysanth had even been so young. Certainly not when he had been in her service. Perhaps never.

“Your highness?” said Sovereign Immunity carefully.

“I’m fine,” said Clem, “I don’t care what she thinks of me. If she wants to waste time on-” Clem broke off, taking a steadying breath. “I will prove to her that I am the one that is fit to rule. I  _ will _ .”

“Do you wish to draft a response?”

Clem opened her mouth, then shut it again. She looked down at the parchment she had balled in her hand.

“No,” said Clem, “I think… I think that’s enough. There are no words that we could share between us that would fix this, now.”

Sovereign Immunity’s hand twitched, almost moving to touch her arm before he thought better of it. The Kesh family were not known for their great love of physical affection, after all.

“Meet me in the west study in a half hour,” said Clem, “I wish to go over our strategy. It needs to be perfect.”

“Yes your highness,” said Sovereign Immunity.

He glanced back at her as he opened the doors. She had returned to staring out the window. From this angle, the lava’s reflection through the window covered her expression, making her look as though she were painted in blood.


	10. Day 10: Home (Hadrian/Rosana, Ben/Blue J, C/w au)

Ben’s head popped around the corner. Hadrian already knew what his question would be, meeting Rosana’s eyes in their reflections in the cockpit’s window.

“How long until we get there?”

Rosana turned in her seat to face him. “Not long now, only another day or so.”

Ben made a face. “A whole  _ day _ ?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Rosana.

“I thought you said this ship was fast,” said Ben, “Shouldn’t we be there by now?”

“The galaxy’s a big place,” said Hadrian, adjusting their course slightly, “Even the Kingdom Come can’t cross it in an instant.”

“But I-” Ben stopped himself, his cheeks flushing.

Hadrian frowned, turning in his seat to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” said Ben. He looked down, scuffing his feet against the bare metal floor. “I just… I bought Blue J a birthday present and I don’t want it to be late, that’s all.”

“The Nurmacher men and their gifts,” murmured Rosana.

Hadrian felt the back of his neck flush, thinking of the gift he had attempted to get Rosana when they had first been dating, the lengths he had gone to in order to try and find her a bouquet of  _ real _ roses (only to learn, of course, that she much preferred living daisies). Rosana had smiled at, like she was smiling at him now, amused and warm and fond. Now, as then, the sight of it made his chest felt too small for all the love he had for her inside it.

She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. Hadrian squeezed back.

“We’ll get there in time,” said Hadrian, “Don’t worry Benjamin. We’re set to be there before the  _ Boundless Fate _ . If we’re beating Hella of all people, you know we’re making good time.”

Ben didn’t look as though he quite believed it, but his shoulders lowered a little. He put his hands in his pockets.

“I know, I just… I don’t want them to think I forgot about them,” said Ben.

Rosana stood, stepping towards Ben and putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure they know you didn’t forget them.”

Ben shrugged, a habit he’d been developing as a teenager.

Rosana hummed. “You know, I need to call Red Jack soon, tell him our ETA so he can have the  _ Bar _ ’s port open for us. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind giving up the call for a few minutes for you and Blue J to talk.”

Ben looked up. “Really? When?”

Rosana huffed a laugh. “Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any.” She looked over her shoulder. “You alright to navigate on your own for a bit?”

“Of course,” said Hadrian, “I can keep an eye on things.”

Rosana smiled at him as Ben dragged her away towards the common room where the comms were set up.

Hadrian’s eyes lingered on the doorway for a moment before he turned back to the stars, laid out in front of him without name or number. Out there, somewhere, Hella was navigating her own small ship to the same destination. Despite his worries about what was to come, at least they would all be together, finally home.


	11. Day 11: Wings (Fero/Samol, Lasers and Feelings au)

Fero peered around the corner, setting his blaster on a slightly higher stun setting than he technically needed to. The Ordenan goons advanced slowly on his position, checking in every room along the hall. Fero eyed the open window. Eighty floors was high enough to make taking on two Ordenan officers seem like a slightly better choice.

“You don’t need to do that,” said Samol, in his earpiece.

Fero huffed a breath. “I forgot that you can see the settings where you are.”

“Sometimes regulations are there for a reason,” said Samol, “keeps you in check.”

“I am in check,” said Fero, “It won’t  _ kill _ them, they’re just gonna feel it a little tomorrow.”

“Probably the next day too,” said Samol.

Fero sighed, clicking the blaster down a level. “There, happy?”

“I won’t be happy until you’re safe back on the ship,” said Samol, “But I suppose this’ll do for now.”

Fero made a face, watching the Ordenan’s progress in their reflection in the window. Samol was very different to his last Captain. Captain Severea had given a lot of orders but she had never been in his ear the way Samol was and she had certainly never said things like  _ that _ , things that make Fero’s chest feel tight, made him lose focus in whatever mission he was doing to concentrate instead on Samol’s warm voice-

He shook himself. First, take out the Ordenans, then he could focus on Samol. There were only two of them. He could take out two of them, easy.

Fero waited until they were both approaching his hiding spot before he stepped out, managing to hit one as the other dived for cover. He heard one of them bark into their radio, the slam of a door echoing down to hall signalling the arrival of backup.

“Well, okay, that’s fine,” said Fero quickly, “I have a plan.”

“Fero-”

“No time for arguing,” said Fero, heading towards the window, “Just trust me.”

“I do,” said Samol, “I was going to say - I’m bringing the ship around to you.”

Fero blinked, his hands on the bottom of the window. He could see his reflection in the glass, stunned and a little pink.

He could also see the reflection of the Ordenan, aiming at him.

Fero spun to the side, the shot missing him and hitting the window instead, sending shards of glass across the room.

Fero grinned. “Thanks for making an easy exit.”

The Ordennan swore at him, stepping towards him but Fero was quicker, thankful for his thick gloves as he vaulted out the window, holding onto the edge for a moment before he threw himself off the building into a backflip.

This high up, the wind was ice cold and deafening in his ears, blocking out everything except his own heartbeat. The  _ Erasure _ came into view, hovering below him, the perfect angle for his descent.

Fero grinned. Time for his favourite part.

He flexed his wrists, activating the wings of his uniform. They spread out, slowing his fall and letting him fly through the air towards the ship. This was the best he ever felt, gliding high above everything, untouchable and free. He laughed, twisting his body to do a spin in the air as he drew closer to the ship’s entry.

“ _ Fero _ ,” said Samol in a tone that implied this wasn’t the first time he’d asked, “can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” said Fero, “I’m coming in.”

“Good to hear,” said Samol, “Quite a stunt you pulled just now.”

“Not really,” said Fero, “I can do much better stunts.”

Samol hummed. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Despite the cold air, Fero felt his cheeks heat.

This close, he could see Samol waiting for him in the ship’s open cargo bay. Fero couldn’t see his face well enough to read his expression but he knew Samol’s posture well enough to know he was smiling. In the air, where he was safe, Fero could admit to himself that it was something he liked to see. Something he would like to see more of, even.

“Maybe I will,” said Fero. He paused. He only had a few more seconds until landing. “I heard you pulled some stunts of your own back in the day.”

“Maybe I could tell you about them,” said Samol, his voice a low rumble in Fero’s ear.

“Maybe I’d like that,” said Fero.

Samol chuckled. “Alright then. Stop showing off and make your landing.”

Fero laughed, doing another spin to be contrary and to make Samol laugh because of it. The sound was almost as good as flight.


	12. Day 12: Maps (Clem, SI, Leap, Millie, Hieron au)

The clash of swords rang out over the water as Leap’s blade met Sovereign Immunity’s. Sovereign Immunity was larger, bearing down on Leap. Leap gritted his teeth, holding his own, his muscles straining as he pushed back with all his might.

“I’m not giving up the map,” said Leap, “so just. Give. Up!”

Sovereign Immunity blinked, faltering for a moment and giving Leap a chance to push away, stepping to the side. Sovereign Immunity frowned, glancing back towards the helm where Clem and Millie were standing off against one another, pistol’s aimed for each other’s chests.

Leap made a face, tapping his sword against Sovereign Immunity’s to get his attention. “Hey, we’re fighting to the death here in case you forgot.”

Sovereign Immunity shook himself, his blade coming up to meet Leap’s a little half-heartedly.

Leap frowned. “If you don’t want the map why are you even chasing us?”

“We’re… not?” said Sovereign Immunity, “We… can I see the map?”

Leap snorted. “Right, sure, I show you that and then you grab it out of my hand and push me into the ocean. Oldest trick in Hieron.”

“It is not,” said Sovereign Immunity, “I… listen, first of all, you were chasing  _ us _ -”

“Untrue but okay.”

“And second of all, we-” Sovereign Immunity broke off, glancing back at Clem. He lowered his voice. “ _ We _ have a map.  _ You  _ were trying to steal  _ our _ map.”

“I mean, sure, if I’d  _ known  _ you had a map maybe I would have tried to take it, but I didn’t, and also,  _ we  _ have a map and  _ we _ were minding our own business following it until you showed up.”

“But you-” began Sovereign Immunity.

“Immunity,” said Clem, not taking her eyes off Millie, “Are you alright down there?”

“Yes your highness,” said Sovereign Immunity, “Just trying to sort out some… confusion about the map.”

“Oh, the map they’re trying to steal from me?” said Clem.

“You mean  _ our _ map?” said Millie, at the same time.

Clem’s eyes narrowed. “ _ Your _ map, what do you mean  _ your _ map?”

MIllie reached into her coat pocket and took out the torn parchment, holding it aloft.

“Wait, hold on-” said Leap.

“See?” said Millie, triumphant, “ _ Our _ map.”

Wordlessly, Clem reached into her own coat pocket, pulling out her own piece of torn parchment.

“So we both have maps, big deal,” said Leap, “Doesn’t explain why you were following us.”

“We weren’t,” said Clem, “We were following  _ our  _ map, not that it’s  _ any _ of your business-”

“And we were following  _ our _ map,” said Leap.

“Or what’s left of it,” added Millie.

“Well I wasn’t going to tell them  _ that _ part,” said Leap.

“What do you mean  _ what’s left of it _ ?” said Sovereign Immunity.

“It’s just a little ripped,” said Leap.

“It’s torn in half,” said Millie.

Sovereign Immunity’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked towards Clem. Clem blinked, her eyes leaving Millie for the first time to look at the map in her hands.

Millie’s gun lowered slightly as she leant towards Clem. Her curiosity had a tendency to outweigh her pirate traits, but since this was her first practical experience with piracy, Leap let it slide.

She reached towards Clem’s map, and Clem snatched the parchment back.

“ _ You _ -”

Millie raised her hands. “Hey, calm down princess. I was just going to- here-”

She held their map out towards Clem. Leap made to step forward, only for Sovereign Immunity’s hand to come down heavily on his shoulder.

“Hold on a minute,” said Sovereign Immunity.

Slowly, Millie held out the parchment towards Clems until the ragged edges met, fitting together.

Clem’s eyes went wide. “Oh.”

Millie huffed a laugh. “Yeah, see?”

“So no one was following anyone,” Sovereign Immunity said slowly, “we were just… going to the same place.”

Leap shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t see why we care, right Millie?”

Millie was looking down at the parchment in her hands, her eyes scanning over the faded ink. “I mean, it’s kind of good to see the whole picture. Our map doesn’t show this huge big mountain range here.”

Clem paused for a moment, glancing over to Sovereign Immunity. He gave her a small nod.

“And our’s doesn’t show this reef along the coast.” Clem paused, pressing her lips together. “Perhaps it would be of some benefit for us to… work together.”

“What’s in it for us?” said Leap.

“A thirty-five percent share of whatever we find and use of our half of the map,” said Clem quickly.

“Seventy,” said Millie.

“Forty,” said Clem.

“ _ Eighty _ ,” said Millie.

“That’s not how this works,” said Clem.

“Fifty-fifty,” said Sovereign Immunity, “an equal share for equal work, and we share the map between all of us.”

Leap made a face, considering him for a moment. Sovereign Immunity was kind of a rube, but from what Leap had heard he was an honest one, and he was an important enough figure in high society that Clem would probably have to keep to his offer.

“Deal,” said Leap, holding out a hand.

Sovereign Immunity shook it. “Deal.”

“Fine,” said Clem, “But as Captain-”

“ _ I’m _ the Captain,” said Leap, “this is my ship!”

“We’re only on  _ your  _ ship because you sunk mine!” said Clem.

“We’re pirates!” said Leap, “That’s literally our job!”

“Being a pirate is  _ not _ a job,” said Clem.

“It’s a calling,” said Leap, “that’s better than a job anyway, right Millie?”

“Right,” said Millie, “but maybe you can be like, co-Captains until we find the treasure or whatever.”

Clem wrinkled her nose, so annoyed by the idea that Leap decided he loved it.

“Okay,” said Leap, “My first decision as co-Captain is that I get to steer first. I’m better at it than you anyway,  _ clearly _ .”

“ _ You _ crashed into  _ my _ ship!”

“Yeah, and  _ you _ couldn’t get out of the way,” said Leap, “therefore  _ you _ aren’t good at steering.”

“Fine,” Clem huffed, “But  _ I  _ get to hold the map.”

She took the other half of the map from Millie’s hands, flushing at Millie’s laugh as she did so.

“I’ll… go be lookout, or whatever,” said Millie.

Sovereign Immunity nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. You said there was a reef coming up?”

“When we get closer, yeah,” said Millie.

Leap waved a hand. “We can get through it easy, I’ve done this like a hundred times.”

He pushed past Sovereign Immunity’s hand to walk towards the helm to take the wheel. Sovereign Immunity followed, moving to stand next to Clem, casting her in shadow.

“Huh,” said Sovereign Immunity, “it’s good to have the full picture.”

Leap glanced over. Now that he could see the whole map, he could see the places they would have headed into danger, the places on the map which had seemed to lead to clear spaces that instead lead to jagged mountains and sharp cliffs. They would have made it, probably, but it would have been a much longer, much harder, journey.

Leap looked back towards the horizon. “Yeah, I guess. You helping to navigate or what?”

Clem huffed a breath. “Just steer us straight. Fortune awaits us, and I do not intend to lose out.”

“Hey, me neither,” said Leap, “Maybe we’ve got more in common after all.”

  
Clem’s expression was tinged with outrage. Leap laughed. Maybe this whole  _ working together _ thing would be more fun than he thought.


	13. Day 13: Correspondence (Sokrates/Integrity, Lady Blackbird au)

>PASSWORD REQUIRED

>ENTER PASSWORD

[XXXXXXXXXXX]

>ACCESS GRANTED

>MESSAGE RECORD: RECEIVED MESSAGES

>MESSAGE SEARCH

>MESSAGES FROM: SOKRATES NIKON ARTEMISIOS

>SEARCH RESULTS AS FOLLOWS:

Hi little fish,

Don’t have much time here but wanted to let you know I’m still alive. I found passage on this little ship out here, the  _ Enhydra _ . Weird little ship, captain won’t come out of their cabin but they take bribes well enough! Pretty funny for someone named Integrity! They’ve promised to get me back to Apostalos in time to get married to whoever it is our parents have chosen, so tell them not to worry (not that they’ll listen).

See you in a few months! xoxo

PS: better if you don’t spread the ship name around, come to think of it - I’m taking it to avoid notice after all.

  
  


Hi Cass,

Not much to report on my end, deep space travel is as boring as always. Glad to hear you’ve made some disreputable friends, I’ve always found them to be the best kind to have around (although I’m probably biased, being disreputable myself).

I know you wanted more information about Captain Integrity but I still haven’t seen them. The ship’s very small so it’s just the two of us. They talk a little though, through the internal comms. I often find that hours have passed by while we’ve been speaking. Not much else to do in space, I guess. They must get lonely.

The friend you mentioned, he’d like this ship - it’s fully automated, controlled by the captain from the helm, I think. He might have trouble hacking it though, Captain Integrity seems very protective of it. It makes sense I suppose. It seems to be all they have.

We’re making good time but I’m still a couple of months away. I hope our parents aren’t putting too much pressure on you about it. If they are, you should go out with your friends instead. Getting into trouble will remind them that you can’t bend space and time around yourself to get me there sooner.

xoxo Sokrates

  
  


Cass,

Sorry for the late response, I know the news of the attack on the  _ Enhydra _ must have worried you. Be assured that I am safe and alive thanks to this ship and Integrity. I have never been so protected by someone I have never seen face to face.

Perhaps this is a good sign for my wedding, which I will now most certainly be late to. I sincerely wish you luck with our parents when they realise this, if they have not already (perhaps you should hide out with those friends of yours, in case they decide to marry you off in my place).

I know I have complained about this to you often, but I do wish that they would have at least consulted me about who I was to marry. I dread that they have picked someone like themselves and not thought of me at all.

You should go hide out with your friends anyway. See some of the galaxy with them before our parents try to tie you down to respectability.

Sokrates

  
  


Hi tadpole,

I am still alive and still late, so no changes there! I’m glad that you took my advice, it’s good for you to get away from the palace. I have, of course, been diligently reading the gossip rags about your exploits. Integrity seems to find my amusement in your scandalous activities amusing, which is a kind of comradery I wasn’t expecting to find.

We’ve taken a wider route to Apostalos, which I’m told will be safer, but this unfortunately means we’re back to space travel being extremely boring. While I enjoy not having my life threatened, it did at least add some excitement.

It’s not all bad. Although I still have yet to see them, Integrity and I spend almost all of the ship’s day cycle in conversation, and a great deal of the night. I have come to find great comfort in their voice. I wish they trusted me enough to let me see them. You know me, when I sense a secret my mind runs wild.

Tell that Aria Joie that myself and Integrity enjoyed her last performance - we only just got the broadcast.

Love, Sokrates

  
  


Cass

I found out today why I have never seen the captain of this ship [FILE CORRUPTED] Truly, it was one of the most breathtaking things I have seen in my life. A great trust has been placed in me with this, and I will not break it.

Sokrates

PS: tell our parents that my wedding will be delayed indefinitely (from a safe distance, several planets away). When Integrity and I make it to a place safe from them, I’ll give you the coordinates.


	14. Day 14: Waves (Hector/Heard, TM au)

Heard knows him by his voice alone. He doesn’t know the man’s name, only his voice, echoing through the mesh. The voice is warm and quiet, as though the man was speaking directly into Heard’s ear. There’s an odd sense of familiarity to it, as though he and Heard were picking up a previous conversation.

The first few times he heard the voice he didn’t have much time to investigate, too busy tracking this suspect or that clue through the mesh. The voice remained, murmuring in his ear about conspiracies and local news, anything and everything. Heard wasn’t sure if any other Castlerose agents heard it. If they did, it was never included in their reports.

Then again, it wasn’t in Heard’s reports either. It was never pertinent to the cases he was working on. Extraneous information only got in the way of the truth, after all. That explanation would probably have held up under internal review if he had not then sought out the source of the voice.

He’d never been a particularly curious person, more interested in fitting together the puzzle of an assigned case than he was in unravelling the mystery behind it. It had served him well as an Agent. Now though, the voice niggled at him even when he wasn’t in the mesh. Somewhere, out there, was the man that the voice belonged to. When Heard tried to picture him, he could only ever see smoke.

It kept him up at night, another peculiarity. He’d always found it easy to sleep before. Now he’d walk in the mesh, letting the voice wash over him until he felt tired enough to return to his own body. He didn’t go to any specific place, wandering the virtual boardwalk in the perpetual twilight, the old fishermen silhouetted against the darkening sky at the end of the pier, always in the distance.

“Hello,” said the voice.

Heard let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“You’ve been coming here more often,” continued the voice, “Looking for answers?”

“Looking for you,” murmured Heard.

“Walk a while,” said the voice, “Maybe you’ll find me.”

Heard stopped when he reached the pier. This was an oddity in itself, as this particular space in the mesh didn’t have a real pier. He’d seen the location in the mesh many times through the years and the pier had only ever been a piece of background scenery. It felt surreal to be standing on it, as though he had moved from the mesh and into a dream.

At the end of the pier, where there should have been the peaceful shadows of old fishermen, stood a radio station. The tower was jarring against the landscape, the metal framework shining and bright against the worn boards of the pier. Heard could hear the voice over the low sound of the waves below, drawing him closer.

The door opened as Heard reached for it.

“Agent Heard,” said the voice, “It’s good to see you again. Come in.”

Heard peering into the room. It was difficult to see, the lamps scattered around the room casting circles of light around them rather than giving any real illumination. There was a figure towards the back of the room, leaning against the radio control panel. The light of the OFF AIR sign lit the outline of the man’s features in a purple glow.

The man gestured Heard forward, his cigarette leaving a lingering trail of smoke in the air, a marker of his movement. Heard watched the tip of it glow red as the man took a deep inhale, the smoke tinged with the purple light. 

“Who are you?” said Heard, softly.

“A friend,” said the man.

“If you’re a friend,” said Heard, “Then why have I never seen you?”

“You’ve heard me,” said the man, “and you’ve listened, too, which is another kind of skill entirely.”

The man pushed off the control panel, stepping into the illumination of the window. Heard didn’t recognise him, and yet as with a dream it was as though he knew him, not from a memory, but from the impression of one. He took another step into the room. The man smiled, taking a small silver case out of his pocket and pulling out a cigarette, holding it out to Heard.

Heard reached for it, their fingers brushing, the simple touch lingering for the space of heartbeat but enough to make Heard’s cheeks flush. He put the cigarette between his lips, patting his pockets for a lighter.

The man flicked a lighter of his own, holding it up to Heard’s cigarette. Heard kept still, focussing on taking an even breath in rather than how the man had stepped closer to him, close enough that Heard could study the thick material of the man’s jacket and the flecks of gold in his eyes. The man’s lips quirked upwards. The expression felt small and private, as though he were sharing something with Heard alone.

“This is a long time to speak to someone without meeting them,” Heard said finally, letting out a slow exhale.

“I had to make sure,” said the man.

“Of what?”

“Of you.”

“And are you?”

The man studied him for a long moment. “I am. Are you?”

“What?”

“Are you sure of you?” said the man.

“Yes,” said Heard.

The man hummed. “Are you sure of me?”

“I’ve only just met you,” said Heard.

“But are you?” said the man.

“I-” Heard paused, looking down at the cigarette in his hand for a moment before he looked back up at the man’s face. “Yes.”

The man smiled again, reaching out to put a warm hand on Heard’s shoulder. “I knew you were listening.” He paused. “Do you know my name?”

Heard hesitated, studying the man’s face. “Hector. Hector Hu.” He frowned. “How… You disappeared. I had forgotten.”

Hector nodded. “That’s alright. For now, you remember, and that’s enough.”

Heard nodded back, and Hector’s smile widened, the sight of it spreading warmth through Heard’s chest. He remembered now, Hector, always one level of clearance above him but always taking the time to answer Heard’s questions, to help guide him through a case or a particularly difficult round of paperwork. Hector, with a cup of coffee on a long night. Hector, leaning against a wall, waiting with a smile for Heard to walk with him.

Hector, smiling at him now, the sight of it welcoming Heard home.

“Yes,” said Heard, “that’s enough.”


	15. Day 15: Celebration (Kent/Gig, Marielda au)

_ Welcome _ , read the lovingly crafted banner hanging above the entry-way,  _ To The Annual Brighton Celebration of High Sun Day _ .

Kent smiled, his hands on his hips as he surveyed the room. The tables were laid out, the decorations were up, the menu chosen and the food beginning to be set out exactly as he had requested. This High Sun Day was truly going to be one of his best yet. He made a circuit of the room, listening both for the chime of the clocktower to indicate the hour and for the heralds to announce the first guest.

The first few were as he would have expected, family members arriving a little  _ too _ fashionably early and social climbers looking to stake out their conquests. Kent greeted them warmly, making a slow round of the room and trying not to make it too obvious that he was keeping a keen eye on the door.

“Presenting Signet, paladin of the glorious Belgard, and Tender Sky,” said the herald.

Kent moved to greet them, ignoring how people craned their necks to get a glimpse of the reclusive paladin. Signet was dressed in her customary shimmering robes, the edges heavy with glittering metal fragments that were said to come from the goddess’s body itself and her hair bound into a complicated series of plats and twists. Beside her, Tender was an almost muted figure until she stepped into the light, her pale dress turning into a sheer covering of crystals, her vibrant purple hair tumbling in loose waves over her shoulders.

“They Marked Scars Of Light In Pitch; Born In Fiercest Purpose, And Beheld As The Signet Sealed Upon Our Pact,” said Kent, bowing to Signet.

“Please, just Signet is fine-”

“And Miss Sky,” said Kent, “So wonderful that you were both able to make it!”

“Of course, we wouldn’t miss this!” said Tender, “Oh, here, I brought something for you-”

“Oh, Miss Sky, you shouldn’t have!”

Tender held out a bottle made of twisted glass The opaque liquid glittered in the light. 

“Now, this isn’t for everyone, this is just for you, so don’t put it out for the party-”

“Might make for a fun party,” muttered Signet.

Tender shot her a look, continuing. “It’s a little something I brewed up.”

“Oh?” said Kent, taking the bottle as carefully as possible while trying to make his motions appear casual. “What… effects does it have?”

“I mean, you know, with this kind of thing it  _ always _ depends on the person,” said Tender, “but it  _ should _ propel you into a dreamscape where you can explore your deepest desires.”

Kent felt himself flush slightly. “Oh! Well! That sounds- thank you Miss Sky, I’ll be sure to put that somewhere… somewhere safe.”

Tender grinned at him. “Good idea. It also goes pretty well with orange-poppy seed friands, if you ask me.”

Kent blinked. “I… I’ll certainly take that under advisement.”

Tender nodded, offering her arm to Signet. A smile hovered at the corners of Signet’s mouth for a moment before her expression melted back into her still, tranquell expression. She took Tender’s arm, her face turning towards Tender’s as the two walked into the midst of the party.

Kent took the tea brew directly to his chambers, carefully setting inside his small personal safe before quickly returning to the party. He entered just as Even was arriving. Although he no longer wore the Golden Lance uniform, he still carried himself tall, his clothing crisp and neat. Kent rushed forward to greet him.

“Commander Gardner!” said Kent. “Wonderful to see you! Delightful!”

He blinked. A smaller man stood slightly behind Even, his clothes as neat as those of Even’s but he boots speaking of someone who had taken slightly more care in dressing than Even had. He also was not someone Kent recognised, a rarity for his High Sun Day party.

“Oh! And you’ve brought a guest?”

“Is that… The uh, invitation said it was okay to bring a plus one, so I-”

“Of course it is!” said Kent, extending a hand, “Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr…”

The man shook his hand, calluses betraying a lifetime of hand work. “Just Cascabel is fine.”

“Cascabel is Marielda’s most talented weaponsmiths,” said Even, “He’s in the process of refining the weaponry for Cascara’s new regiment.”

“Well! It is wonderful to make your acquaintance Cascabel,” said Kent, “I do hope that you avail yourself of the refreshments, and do let me know if you’d like me to assist in making any introductions, although I am  _ certain _ that Commander Gardner will do an admirable job of taking care of you during the night.”

Cascabel grinned. “He always does.”

Even cleared his throat. “Uh. I- Oh, look, Signet’s already here, let’s go say hello.”

“Nice to meet,” said Cascabel, as Even steered him away.

“I  _ have _ an invitation,” said a voice behind Kent.

Kent turned, peering around the guards to glimpse who they were speaking to. It was a strange grouping. A weaver, limbs waving in the breeze, stood in front of a person in a brightly-coloured shirt and distinctive black pants, and a slightly scruffy man in a garishly coloured suit.

“Ah,” said Kent, “my friends, welcome!”

The weaver glared at the guards, adjusting their glasses. “Mr Brighton.”

“Mx Fifteen!” said Kent, grasping their hands in greeting.

It was, perhaps, a little showier of a greeting than he normally would have given them, but sometimes such behaviour was needed to impress upon others that certain people were welcome. Fourteen Fifteen had done him many great favours and the great house of Brighton always remembered those who helped them, especially if they would most likely call on them again for favours in the future.

“And Mx Reverie and Mr Magnificent, wonderful to see you, just wonderful!”

“It’s  _ Grand _ Magnificent.”

“Yes,” said Kent, a little distracted as he glanced towards the empty entry gate, “It is a grand occasion, I’m so delighted you could make it.”

“Gig’s not with us,” said Echo.

Kent flinched, feeling his cheeks heat. “I, ah. No. Yes. I can see that, I- my apologies for my distraction, what a terrible host! Please, come in, avail yourself of the refreshments. I believe the band will soon be beginning their first performance if you wish to dance.”

Grand glanced at Echo and then quickly looked away, his cheeks flushing a deep pink.

“Is, ah, has Tender arrived?” asked Fourteen quietly.

“Miss Sky was one of the first to arrive,” said Kent, “I believe she is by the fountain, if you were so inclined.”

Fourteen’s cheeks coloured a little. “I- thank you Mr Brighton, that is much appreciated.”

“Of course, of course!” said Kent, stepping back for them to enter. “Please, do come in!”

He noted, with some interest, that Grand  _ almost _ moved to offer his arm to Echo before stepping back and allowing them to enter ahead of him. Echo rolled their eyes, leading the others through into the party.

Kent glanced towards the gate entry again only to find it just as empty of guests as before. He pressed his lips together, tamping down on his disappointment. Mr Kephart was a tremendously busy individual, even on a day such as today. There were surely more urgent things that required his attention than something as frivolous as a party. He would, most likely, visit in a few days, with apologies and tales of his exploits.

There were positives to that, of course, in that he would have Gig’s attention solely to himself, but still… Kent sighed, attempting to school his expression into something more appropriate for a host. He had so been hoping to dance with Gig. Just  _ once _ .

He stepped back into the room, making a slow circuit through the people. The atmosphere was joyous, especially now that the band had begun to play. Couples twirled around the dance floor, spilling out into the courtyard. Kent smiled, delight bubbling up inside him despite Gig’s absence.

He felt a hand at his elbow, and turned, blinking in surprise at Echo. Their expression was clouded, their lips pressed together in a thin line.

“Mx Reverie? I hope you are-”

“Kent, would you like to dance with me?” said Echo.

“I, ah- of course, I would be delighted-” said Kent.

“Good,” said Echo, “let’s go.”

They pulled him towards the dancefloor, taking the lead as they guided him through a dance. It was a simple one, although Kent suspected that was more for his benefit rather than due to a lack of expertise, their movements graceful. Their expression remained fixed, not exactly  _ grim _ , but hardly the expression of someone having a pleasant experience, their eyes darting occasionally towards the edge of the crowd. Kent followed their gaze. Grand magnificent stood towards the edge of the dancefloor, his expression mirroring Echo’s.

Kent waited until the first song was over, taking a deep breath as the second song began, a little slower-paced than the first. Echo easily adjusted their steps to match.

“Mx Reverie…” said Kent, “It is not that I am not honoured by your request, and you are a truly wonderful dance partner, but I… Is there not someone else who would wish to dance with you?”

“No one else asked,” said Echo, their voice clipped.

“Not to intrude,” said Kent, “But, perhaps, there was someone who would have wanted to?”

Echo shrugged, the motion as graceful as their dance steps. “How should I know, I’m not a mind-reader.”

“I just wouldn’t want to cause a rift of any sort,” continued Kent, “Especially not on so joyous a day-”

“If he wanted to dance with me, he could have asked,” snapped Echo.

Kent looked away, stumbling over his feet on the next step. “My apologies.”

Echo sighed. “It’s fine, I shouldn’t take it out on you I guess, I just… I don’t want to talk about it. When I want to stop dancing, I’ll tell you, okay?”

“Very well Mx Reverie,” said Kent. The song changed again into one Kent knew well. “Oh! Perhaps I could lead for this round?”

“Sure,” said Echo, “Why not?”

“Although I am not quite a dancer of your caliber, I am quite good at this one I think,” said Kent, “Let’s see-”

They span together across the dance floor. Kent had always loved this dance. It reminded him of the rolling waves of the ocean, of the ships of old circling each other, clashing against one another in a storm. Echo matched his pace easily, their face coming alive with the movement of it, laughing as he twirled them a little more dramatically than the dance truly called for. Kent smiled, glad that they had recovered from their earlier upset.

“Mind if I cut in?” said Grand, putting a hand on Kent’s shoulder.

“Yes,” said Echo.

“Not at all,” said Kent, at the same time, stepping back to let Grand take his place.

Echo immediately switched their positions. “If I’m dancing with you, I’m leading.”

“Good,” said Grand, “Because I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Then why ask me to dance in the first place?”

“Because I wanted to…”

Kent stepped away leaving them to the conversation. He quickly freshened up the washroom, leaving his jacket in the cloakroom before he stepped back into the party. Grand and Echo were dancing slowly towards the courtyard, their faces close together as they spoke. Behind them, he could see Tender and Fourteen seated by the fountain, curled around each other in a way only made non-scandalous by the nature of Fourteen’s weaver limbs. Even and Cascabel were still inside, dancing together in the quick-paced nature of the song, faces beaming.

He moved towards the bar, settling on a sparkling juice he’d become quite fond of. Signet slid into a seat beside him.

“Good party,” said Signet.

“Thank you, They Marked- Thank you  _ Signet _ ,” said Kent, “I’m so glad that you’re enjoying yourself.” he paused. “Would you like to dance, I’m sure-”

“No,” said Signet, “I dance enough at home.”

“Ah, yes, I see,” said Kent, even though he absolutely did not see.

Signet swirled her glass, considering him for a moment. “Gig’s on his way.”

Kent almost dropped his glass. “He is? I mean, I-” Kent cleared his throat. “I did, of course, send an invitation to Mr Kephart, but his presence is not  _ required _ , I merely… I had hoped that he would come and enjoy himself, as I do for any of those that I invite.”

“Uh huh,” said Signet slowly. “Well, I have it on good authority that he’s running late and will be here sometime soon.”

“That’s-” Kent swallowed. “It is good to hear that he will be able to attend after all. Would you excuse me, for a moment?”

Kent rushed back to the washroom, glad that it was empty this time. He paced back and forth for a few moments before splashing water on his face. He patted it dry, trying to soothe his sudden nerves. He heard the sound of the washroom door opening and took a breath in, preparing to slide back into being the party’s host. He turned dropping to towel in shock.

“Mr Kephart?”

“Kent!” said Gig, grinning widely at him, “There you are! I’m so sorry I’m late, there was this thing at the printers and then of course no one’s working today so- whatever, doesn’t matter! I’m here!”

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Kent. Kent let out an undignified squeak, trying to get over his shock fast enough to return Gig’s embrace. Gig stepped back, keeping his hands on Kent’s waist. Gig grinned, and Kent felt himself smile back, warmed by Gig’s presence.

“So how’s the party going?” said Gig.

“Very well!” said Kent, “Everyone seems to be having a lovely time and the band is truly excellent this year, I will simply have to hire them again for my more private functions-”

“No, I mean like, how are you?” said Gig. “Are  _ you _ having a good time?”

“I- well, yes,” said Kent. He searched for an example. “I had a very enjoyable dance with Mx Reverie earlier.”

“Oh?” said Gig, “Oh, hey, we should dance!”

Kent inhaled sharply. “We should?”

Gig’s face fell, and he stepping back, his hands falling from Kent’s sides. “I mean, you don’t have to, we-”

“No, Mr Kephart, I-” Kent caught Gig’s hands. “I would love nothing more than to dance with you. In truth,” he added shly, “I have been quite looking forward to your arrival to ask you this very thing.”

Gig’s face lit up. “That’s- wow! Okay! Then we  _ definitely _ should, come on-”

He tangled their fingers together, leading Kent out towards the dance floor. Kent felt as though he floated after him. Gig turned as they got closer to the band, stepping close to Kent and sliding his arms around Kent.

“I-” Kent swallowed. “Would you like to lead, or shall I?”

Gig smiled, his sweet face so close to Kent’s it took his breath away.

“You can,” said Gig, “If you get tired of it, we can always swap for the next song.”

“The next song?” said Kent.

“Oh yeah,” said Gig, “I hope there wasn’t anyone else on your dance card tonight.”

“Not at all Mr Kephart,” said Kent, “I have it entirely clear for you.”

Gig beamed at him. “What a coincidence, mine’s clear too. I guess we’ll just have to dance the whole evening together.”

Kent felt Gig’s hand on him flex, drawing Kent slightly closer. Kent inhaled sharply, feeling his face flush. Kent swallowed, bracing himself.

“I… That sounds perfectly amenable to me Mr Kephart,” said Kent, “in fact I think I would rather like that.”

“Another coincidence!” said Gig, “So would I.”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


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